


Two Jedi, One Senator

by Celestial_Alignment



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Fights, Funny, Humor, Jedi mix up, Lightsaber Battles, Multi, OT3, Silly, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23609143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celestial_Alignment/pseuds/Celestial_Alignment
Summary: They get drunk and confused. Padme gets some creative ideas. Then there’s droids and lightsabers. [Please note: Not as filthy as the title implies, I just suck at titles.]
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala/Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 11
Kudos: 56





	Two Jedi, One Senator

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually a deleted chapter from my longer fic, “The Force That Binds.” It was too silly and didn’t work. But I had so much fun writing it, I just changed the name of the planet and tweaked some details. Just for funsies.

They were able to land in the capital city of the planet Tengodi, where they were greeted in cold indifference by the broadly built natives. Their race was no taller than the average humans, however they were at least twice the width with four legs to support them, and a set of two arms that were equally stout and somewhat shorter than a humans. They wore flowing robes, trailing from their solid bodies, their heads elongated at the temple on wide necks, their faces eerily human. Their language was unique, they were not fluent in the Galactic Basic. That was where C-3PO came in. Of the six million forms of communication that the protocol droid was fluent in, Tengodian happened to be one of them.

Though they were initially reserved upon the arrival of the Senator and her Jedi escorts, after the negotiations, Nett Jenian and his consort were nothing but gracious. They even began to laugh once they realized their humor was not so different from the cheeky Jedi. Obi-Wan, in particular, found them to be a joy to talk to, albeit with Threepio as their translator. Nett Jenian invited them to a palace feast, to celebrate the new treaty that they had signed with Senator Amidala.

In the grand dining hall of the Tengodi Palace, dinner was crowded with food and bodies all around a massive C-shaped table that allowed for guests to sit on the outside and the inside of the shape. There was no head to the table, establishing equality among everyone. Senator Amidala and the two Jedi sat together on one side of the table in a row with Threepio standing behind them, to translate everything. Anakin sat between Obi-Wan and Padme, for which the master Jedi was grateful.

Padme had changed into a sophisticated gown when they arrived, a tall collar around her neck, her hair styled back and out of her face, her brow framed by an elegant but simple, silver headpiece. She looked beautiful, and Obi-Wan appreciated the barricade of his former apprentice to prevent him from staring into the sun.

Ever since they had seen Senator Amidala again, after ten years apart, Obi-Wan was caught unawares by the reaction it had in him. It was on par with how enamored Anakin was with her, but the Jedi Master was infinitely more in control of his feelings and how he expressed them. He told himself he knew the difference between physical attraction and emotional attachment.

But after the battle on Geonosis and throughout these Clone Wars, when they would see Padme from time to time, he realized that she made him feel giddy and depressed. Her beauty was an after thought. He was in love, and it was very inconvenient. Especially since he knew that there was obviously something between her and his young padawan. It ate away at him, but he could nothing but suffer in silence.

Obi-Wan regretted how necessary Threepio’s presence was, he was quite content to go the rest of his life not hearing the droid speaking anymore in any language. As they sampled the foods of the planet, which turned out to be rather bland tasting vegetables in sauce, it was still not a terrible experience. They had certainly eaten worse dishes, which Anakin liked to make a point of when he knew it made is master squirm. When the meal was over, their platters were cleared and every guest had a small, shallow bowl placed in front of them. The bowl was ornate with engravings, a silvery liquid inside.

“Ah… this is the Ceremony of Amity!” Threepio chimed in. “These bowls hold portions of their finest drink, called Riv Ale, which is aged for a standard century! It is a rare honor for non-natives of Tengodi to taste this sacred drink!”

Obi-Wan was certainly intrigued. He wasn’t one to shy away from a drink here or there. When the Tengodi took the bowls in their wide hands, the three humans followed their example. Obviously they would not disrespect their hosts by refusing.

“Are we sure this stuff isn’t poisonous to us?” Anakin said quietly, and quite reasonably.

“Oh, it is perfectly safe!” said Threepio. “The chemical makeup of the drink is not terribly different than ardees, I believe….”

There was a drink that both Anakin and Obi-Wan were familiar with. It was more colloquially known as Jawa Juice.

“Well, in that case…” Obi-Wan said with a small smile, looking askance to Anakin who smirked as well. By looking at his padawan, he unintentionally caught Padme’s eye where she sat behind him.

She was holding her own bowl in two hands, just at the level of her chin like everyone else. She, too, was smiling and it made the Jedi Master’s breath catch.  
Nett Jenian was bellowing out what sounded like a toast, the other Tengodians bleating once in awhile in response.

“He is blessing this meal and their honored guests,” Threepio explained. “And would like to drink to the stars your good health, and a prosperous future, and a short war.”

“Hear, hear,” Obi-Wan nodded.

When all the Tengodians lifted their bowls to drink, the humans did the same, cautiously of course. Obi-Wan took one sip and it was like a kick to the teeth. He swallowed it down, and it leapt back up to punch him in the brain.

Anakin hissed through his teeth, wincing and carefully setting the bowl back down. “That’s not like Jawa Juice at all…” his voice was hoarse, one eye pinched closed. He coughed and stomped one foot hard. “Not at all…”

Obi-Wan breathed out, his cheeks puffing, his mouth feeling numb. “It’s not bad.”

“Of course you wouldn’t think so…”

Obi-Wan had never been drunk, he was smarter than that. Though if the drink was hard for the two Jedi to swallow, he had to wonder how Padme handled it. He leaned forward enough to see her past Anakin.

Her hand was over her mouth, just for an instant, but she managed to take in a breath without coughing and keep her poised posture. It was mesmeric how dignified she always managed to be. Just looking at her made him dizzy. Or was it the drink?

The Tengodians were beginning to rise and file out of the dining hall, and Nett Jenian himself approached them, smiling and speaking.

“He says that three rooms have been prepared for you,” Threepio translated. “You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish and the staff within the palace are at your every disposal.”

Together, the humans rose to their feet respectfully, and together they tilted and wobbled. Obi-Wan felt the floor keeling beneath him and his head felt like it was swiveling like Artoo’s. Blast it. _He was drunk._ And all from that one tiny sip.

Nett Jenian laughed warmly and bid them goodnight before he trailed out of the room. Anakin tipped back, planting himself on the table with a clatter of dishes.

“Master… I’m drunk,” he stated with alarm. Which shifted into a laugh.

“So am I…” Padme whispered, a hand on her mouth. She giggled.

Obi-Wan had never heard such a wonderful sound out of her before and he forced his best air of indignation. “Obviously, that drink was much more potent than we thought….” Every word was a slog to utter and he was sure he was slurring. “I think… it would be wise, I think, to find those rooms we have been given… To sleep this off… I think…”

“Oh, bed….” Padme was still whispering, her cheeks red. “That sounds perfect… I agree with Obi-Wan…”

Her hand brushed Anakin’s sleeve. Was it on purpose or was she too intoxicated to know where her hand fell? Either way, Obi-Wan felt the cold burn of jealousy, and the alcohol was not doing him any favors in controlling it.

“ComeonthenAnakin…” the words ran together. “Let’s see the Senator safely to her room then retire to our own. Separate.” Why did he have to add that last bit?

“If you’re afraid to sleep alone, there’s no shame in it, Master,” Anakin chuckled. “I’ll protect you, don’t worry.”

“Very funny…” Obi-Wan mumbled.

Padme began to walk and immediately got tangled in her skirts. She almost fell, but Anakin caught her and they laughed together.

“Some decorum, please…” Obi-Wan straightened himself up, pushing the loose strands from his eyes. He wanted to be the example, but when he began to walk, his shin knocked into one of the chairs.

Padme and Anakin were linked arm in arm now, to offer each other balance as the three of them began to wend their way.

“Ah… C-3PO…” Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder to find the protocol droid, and when he didn’t see him, turned the other way. Which was a mistake because it only made the room spin ten times faster. He stumbled, hitting something solid, where he grabbed on to keep from landing on his beard. He was holding onto Anakin too now.

“Some decorum, Master…” Anakin playfully chided as Obi-Wan held onto him.

“Oh, shut up…”

His former padawan laughed, and so did Padme. Every time she laughed, he felt even more giddy.

“I am here, Master Kenobi…” Threepio was suddenly beside him, compliant as ever.

“Yes… Will you please find someone to show us the way to our rooms? I haven’t the slightest where we’re expected to go…”

“Certainly, sir…” And the gold droid (were there three of him now?) shuffled rapidly ahead of them, turning out of sight of them as soon as he crossed the doorway into a long corridor.

Obi-Wan tried once to let go of Anakin and walk on his own, but the walls seemed to get very close and then bend away again. He suspected that one sip made him slightly more than drunk, it may have had some hallucinogenic properties as well. He was focusing with everything he had to look dignified, even if he apparently couldn’t walk on his own. 

Meanwhile, Anakin and Padme were still giggling, sharing in the same joke though none was made. C-3PO came shuffling back into view, a stiff arm gesturing for them to follow. 

“Your rooms are this way. Follow me, please…”

Somehow, they followed the droid and Obi-Wan still had to hang on to Anakin, who managed to stay upright and carry the other two. Once again, he excelled at everything, and Obi-Wan couldn’t be mad at him for it. Though the Jedi Master was quite peeved at himself for getting intoxicated. If this ever got out, his reputation would be smudged.

“This is your room, My Lady,” Threepio said graciously as he gestured to the open door. From here, Obi-Wan could see the cozy interior of the quarters, a lot of furniture for reclining, a bed, all things that were exceptionally large for a human.

“Thank you, Threepio…” she said slowly, perhaps to annunciate clearly and not slur her words.

She peeled away from Anakin towards the door, her hand on the frame as she stopped to turn back to the two Jedi, who still hung onto each other. She smiled, teeth showing as they caught her bottom lip. “Goodnight…”

“Goodnight, Milady…” the two men said at once.

The door swung closed on hinges and latched.

“Come on, Master…” Anakin grunted and swung both of their bodies around, practically carrying Obi-Wan down the corridor as they followed Threepio.

“Really, Anakin, I can walk on my own…”

“Okay.”

Anakin let go, and the ground seemed to fall out from beneath Obi-Wan’s feet as he slipped downward like a wet noodle. But he straightened up, back onto his own two legs. Adjusting his belt with two hands, he began to walk, his legs a little too loose, his gait a little too zig-zaggy.

Anakin wasn’t much better, his own lanky limbs seemed to liquidate as he stumbled along. But he went with it, didn’t fight it for the sake of dignity and somehow made such uneven walking seem natural.

“The important thing is that we sleep this off…” Obi-Wan said matter-of-factly. “As in, stay in our own rooms. Separate.”

“You know, you keep using that word….”

“What word?”

“Separate.”

“And…?”

“Are you a… _Separatist_?” Anakin laughed at his own joke.

It was a terrible joke, but Obi-Wan was laughing with him, though at a quieter chuckle. “I resent that…”

“Here is your room, Master Anakin…” Threepio pointed at an identical door.

“Thanks, Threepio… Whoever built you did a fantastic job…” Anakin ambled through the door, and without turning, threw up a hand, his robe sleeve flapping with a dismissive _G’night, Master_ … Obi-Wan saw Anakin flop onto the massive bed, face down, so he took it upon himself to shut the door.

“Goodnight, Anakin…” he mumbled.

Off he went alone with Threepio, who shuffled in a perfect straight line, elbows slightly akimbo, glowing eyes straight ahead.

“May I say, Master Kenobi, that I am quite embarrassed about my miscalculations regarding the Riv Ale… The composition is indeed very similar to ardees, but it is perhaps a little more concentrated.”

“Threepio… If that drink was any more concentrated it would be able to eat through beskar…”

“Well, perhaps with sufficient time and temperature conditions it might be able to—oh, here is your room!” He stopped, pointing into yet another, identical door.

“Thank you, Threepio…” he was polite, even if he was glad to be rid of the talkative droid.

“Is there anything else I may do for you, Master Kenobi, before I shut down for the night?”

“Please… no…”

“Oh. Well. Goodnight.”

The droid shuffled away and Obi-Wan did not concern himself with the machine any longer. He felt like he was on a ship caught in a nova, he felt space sick. He latched his door, stumbled to the bed, managed to sit down. Somehow sitting made everything whirl around him more violently. It was hot in here. He threw off his cloak, then his belt, then the tabard, leaving him in just the tunic so that it hung loosely and allowed him to breathe.

Never again. No more drinking things he wasn’t familiar with. To hell with being polite and forging new alliances in the war.

Flopping onto his back, he threw his arm over his face, and was asleep in moments. Then he had the most peculiar dream…

* * *

Alcohol had a way of filling one’s head with bad ideas, making it seem as though they were in fact good ideas. With the Riv Ale tingling through her system, Padme was feeling especially… amorous. How could she not notice how handsome both of her Jedi bodyguards were? The thought even crossed her mind with drunk lucidity, of what it would be like to have two Jedi in one bed and just how completely wrong it was. And so _right_.

There was enough clarity, however, to know that that was a ridiculous thing to think about. She needed to burn off this desire, though, she was antsy in her room, in that giant Tengodian bed, just thinking about where she could be touched in sinful secrecy. The only solution, of course, was to seek out her husband. Before this mission, they had been apart for weeks, and longed for touch again.

It would have been a lie to say that she never had thoughts about Obi-Wan. She had a crush on him for most of her youth, and only now that she was with Anakin did she try to move on from it. She told herself that he definitely wasn’t more attractive with age, and she definitely was not drawn to the older Jedi. Definitely not.

Anakin was no bore in bed either. He was passionate, _wild_ and passionate, and he doted her with so much unconditional love she could drown in it.  
She needed him now.

Though her legs felt like rubber, and she had no sense of direction, she was confident in her intoxication that she knew which room was Anakin’s. She crept inside, closed the door, and had to feel her way through the dark until she found the wide bed. Then a pair of boots, and legs, and the familiar coarse material of a Jedi’s tunic. There was bare flesh and she dove in, her lips and tongue tasting and abusing the skin from sternum to chest to collarbone. She wanted to make up for these weeks away from her husband.

He responded to her touches, hot and hard, and she felt devious in this secret rendezvous. There was always a thrill that she and Anakin shared in meeting in secret, right under the nose of other people. When she went to kiss him, she felt his beard.

Beard?

_BEARD!_

“Obi-Wan?!”

She snapped out of her lustful haze and scrambled to get away, her limbs uncooperative and sending her tumbling to the floor.

“Padme?!” He whispered hoarsely and was beside her in an instant.

Though he was a little more graceful than she was, she could still feel him fumbling a bit in the dark. He attempted to pull her up off the floor, but he slipped and ended up sitting next to her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, to…” Her brain was slogged in the Riv Ale, she was struggling to regain some dignity and come up with a believable excuse. “I thought you were—”

She almost made a grave error by admitted she thought he was Anakin. That would not make this better, no matter what angle one looked at it. He was silent, though there was an occasional sound from him in the dark as if he was looking for something—anything—to say.

What did the Riv Ale tell her to do? Get out and pretend this never happened.

She scrambled to her feet, but the world was liquid around her. Where she meant to put a hand on his shoulder for support, it was his face instead, and she gathered up her skirt and ran to the door. She tried to push it open, it wouldn’t budge. Then she realized it only pulled open.

Out the door she went, and as she pushed it closed again, she heard Obi-Wan finally say:

“Oh dear.”

She wished she had found Anakin’s room first, that she hadn’t made the mistake of ending up alone with Obi-Wan. She liked the way he felt. She hated that the only thing keeping her from eating him alive was that she was already married. She felt sick with confusion. Or perhaps that was the Riv Ale. It added purpose to her steps as she went to the other closed door and slipped inside, closing it at her back.

Anakin’s room had more light, a couple of energy orbs lit along the wall. He was still fully dressed, blanketed in the vast and heavy material of his cloak, face down on the enormous bed, his feet off the edge, lightly snoring. He looked more peaceful than she often saw, and she smiled to herself a little.

She tip-toed to his bed, intending to carefully slide up beside him and sleep in his warmth. But her legs were still full of lead, and she stumbled, bumping into the edge of the bed.

He woke in an instant, rolling away from her to get onto his back, a streak of silver passing in front of her as his lighsaber flew from his belt and into his hand. His thumb hovered over the ignition, but not triggering it as his blue eyes landed on her. He was breathless, the confusion of sleep fading away.

He chuckled weakly and let his head drop back.. “Padme… You scared the life out of me….”

She giggled, only vaguely aware of how quickly that could have gone wrong. He was white as a sheet, but smiling. She crawled on top of him, stretching her body along the length of his own, small enough to fit on top of him comfortably. He left the lightsaber lying on the bed beside his head, his arms closing around her.

“I wasn’t asleep…” he said quietly. “I was going to come to you…”

“It’s my turn to come to you,” she played with his hair. It was getting longer, growing out ever since he lost the braid. “This time I get to be the one who sneaks out in the morning….”

“A senator sneaking out of a Jedi’s room… What will people think…?” He tried to sound scandalized, but his sleepiness and intoxication made him sound slightly bored. He fell quiet.

She tugged at his ear and he opened his eyes again.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Skywalker…” she used her politician tone. “We have such little time together, we’re not going to waste it.”

He was grinning again. “Are you giving me a command, my lady?” his hands swam down the length of her back, making her shiver and flared with heat all at once.

“Yes, I am.”

She adjusted so that she was straddling him, inching back so that she was over his thighs. It made it easier to get to his belt. She couldn’t get Obi-Wan out of her mind now and she was desperate to erase it… or satisfy it.

“As you wish, m’lady…” his breath rattled a bit as he watched her hands remove his belt. Licking his lips anxiously.

She could feel him excited beneath her already, it never took much. He was always vigorous and ready for the fight.

“Anakin…” she purred (and slurred a little), her face buning. “What would you do if Obi-Wan walked in on us…?”

He pulsed under her, the danger of discovery tended to have that affect on him, but he was frowning.

“I _really_ don’t want to think about Obi-Wan right now…”

Off came the belt and she was peeling through the layers to find his nicely carved waist, the line of his pelvis.

“But what if…?” Her fingers ghosted along his waistline, making him shudder. “Do you think he’d keep the secret if…” her heart pounded at the thought and her teeth scraped her bottom lip. “If we invited him to join…”

“Join?” He scoffed and squirmed under her. “You don’t know Obi-Wan… He’d rather chew rocks than break the code… Besides, I’ve seen him naked, there’s nothing worth seeing…”

Something in his petulant tone made her believe the very opposite and her curiosity was piqued in the worst way. Besides, he didn’t say no.

“Padme, please, I’m dying…” he grunted painfully, his flesh hand gripping at her thigh where she straddled him. 

Well, she tried, anyway. The ale in her system made her reckless and possibly insane. She began to pull at his pants, the urgency in her body thrumming louder until it was screaming in her ears.

No. That was a siren.

It was coming from outside.

All it took was a little adrenaline, and for a moment, she was able to move with agility in spite of the alcohol in her blood. She practically flew off of the bed to the window, which lit up in a blinding red light. When she blinked away the flash burn, she could see the flares of blaster fire outside.

“We’re being attacked!” She couldn’t believe her eyes.

Anakin was flailing off the bed, all limbs and clothes hanging off of him. But he had his lightsaber and was bolting out the door.

“Anakin!” He wasn’t even assessing the situation, he was just running into it.

She chased him into the corridor, and he stood with one hand holding up his pants, shirtless, a lightsaber glowing in his other hand. Obi-Wan was already in the hall, his own chest exposed beneath his loose tunic, but at least his pants weren’t ready to drop. He had his lightsaber in hand, though it wasn’t ignited, and it was held calmly at his side.

This was not the time or place, but Padme could not help admiring the view of the two Jedi, both looking in disarray, half lit by the blue light of a saber.

“Master, we’re under attack!” Anakin said after a stunned silence.

Obi-Wan’s brows rose and he gestured to the empty hall as if to say _Yes, by what?_

Anakin turned off his weapon. “Well, not here obviously…” his words were a heavy and he angrily began to fasten his trousers so that they could stay up on their own.

“I saw battle droids,” she finally spoke, hurrying to her own room. There was no time to change into field attire, she would have to stay in her dress. She rummaged in her bag, which was on the floor beside the chair where C-3PO was sitting.

He was shut down, but she made enough noise that his eyes flickered to life.

“Oh, my! My lady! How may I help you?”

“Stay here, Threepio,” she commanded briefly and darted back out of her room.

She didn’t wait for the Jedi. She was running towards the battle for answers.

* * *

Padme had disappeared into her room, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan to stand awkwardly in the corridor, the former half naked, but at least he had his boots on. The Tengodians were running through the halls, the warriors arming themselves, the rest seeking safety from the explosions that shook outside of the palace.

“Clearly the Separatists aren’t pleased with the outcome of the negotiations,” Obi-Wan observed grimly.

“You think they’re attempting to occupy by force?” Anakin wobbled a bit, frowning hard.

“Seems likely…” He was trying to let the Force guide him where the Riv Ale had hold of him. The floor seemed to be made of sponge. “The Republican Army is already on its way… It’s up to us to protect the palace until they get here.”

And the two Jedi grinned at the prospect of a fight, teetering together. There was a blur passing between them.

Oh. That was Padme!

Their grins dropped and they followed her through the palace, and out into the courtyard. They sky was flashing with explosions of laser canon and blasters, Tengodian warriors firing and cutting down droids with broad blades. The people of this planet were not particularly fast, but they could strike a lethal blow with one swing of their heavy weapons.

As for Padme, she found cover behind an ancient fountain in the yard and began to fire at the droids that were trickling in through the gates. The two Jedi became streaks of movement in the battle, two blurs of blue light cutting down multitudes of droids.

Their techniques were far from disciplined, however, as they were both still quite drunk. The twirls of their lightsabers were quick, but the trajectories erratic, and at one point it slipped entirely from Obi-Wan’s hand in mid swing. The blade went flying, but he was able to call upon the Force to pull it back to him in a way that looked entirely intentional.

Anakin leapt all over the place, occasionally rolling, and bouncing off a solid stationary surface that got in his way. Anakin had slid through a line of battle droids, and when he popped back to his feet, he immediately flopped into a cluster of droids.

“Hey!” one of them shouted.

“Die, Jedi!”

Anakin rolled away and in a zig-zag of blue, left them in pieces.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan was surrounded by his fair share of droids. This was nothing new. It seemed every day of their lives in this war involved them surrounded by countless battle droids. It was almost monotonous, except this was the first time that he was drunk. It doubled the number of droids… in his vision at least.

“Master, behind you!”

He heard Anakin’s voice first, then the younger Jedi dropped behind him, slicing away the flanking droid blaster fire.

“I’m still very drunk….” Obi-Wan admitted now that Anakin was near enough to hear.

“So am I,” said Anakin. “I think it’s making me better!”

“It’s making you _think_ you’re better, Anakin…” Obi-Wan grumbled. “You look like a Gungan without gravity…”

Together, they deflected all incoming blaster fire or droids who came close enough to their blades. They were keeping the enemy at bay, preventing them from advancing farther than the courtyard.

* * *

  
Padme was able to cover the Jedi in their fight, picking off wayward battle droids. That is, when she was able to aim well. Her vision was so blurred and crossed. But with how often she fired, and the number of invasion droids, she had her fair share of lucky hits. It was easy enough. With the dense crowd of B1 droids, she just aimed _away_ from the streaks of lightsaber lights.

Anakin and Obi-Wan were now back to back, surrounded, but holding their ground. The enemy was inching closer though, and they happened to be between her and the two knights. She fired at the droids just as Anakin cut them down, removing her target. In the millisecond that it happened, her heart stopped when her own blaster fire went straight for Anakin. But the Jedi, even while intoxicated, deflected the blaster fire from her gun—right into Obi-Wan’s legs. Both of them.

The Jedi Master shouted out in pain and buckled to the ground, his lightsaber still aloft, but his other hand on his leg.

“ANAKIN!”

“Oh woops… Sorry, Master!”

Padme clamped a hand on her mouth to keep in the scream. Without a second thought, she darted out from her cover towards the cluster of droids that surrounded the Jedi, firing madly at any that were in her way.

She created a straight line into the fray and dropped beside Obi-Wan who was looking up at Anakin.

“Anakin, _you shot me!_ ”

“I said I was sorry, Master!”

“Obi-Wan!” She breathed, her hand on his leg near the burn hole. It wasn’t a direct hit, luckily, the blasts just grazed him, but deep enough that it would hurt immensely, she knew. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll live,” he glared up at Anakin, making it sound more like a threat.

“Not if you can’t walk…” Anakin spoke as he deflected blasters and sliced droids. He didn’t seem to break a sweat being the only one left in the fight. Then there was silence.

The unit of droids had been wiped out, but there were more coming.

Padme pulled Obi-Wan’s arm over her shoulders, helping him to his feet. He winced, but he was trying to put on a brave face.

“Why must it always be my legs…” he growled grumpily. “Why can’t it be _your_ legs for once?”

“At least you still have them, Master…” Anakin was entitled to joke, with his prosthetic arm. “Can you walk?”

“Not very well…” Obi-Wan tried to move, and the pain that shot through him forced him to hold onto Padme tighter.

Anakin turned off his lightsaber and hooked it onto his belt. “Alright. Come on.”

“What—”

There was no more warning. Anakin gently nudged Padme aside, leaned forward to put his bare shoulder against his master’s stomach, and hoisted him up over one shoulder, holding onto his injured legs with Obi-Wan’s front half dangling at his back.

“Put me down! You don’t have to carry me like a—”

Another wave of droids came. There was no more time for arguing. Anakin held onto Obi-Wan’s legs with one hand, the other drawing his lightsaber again. Obi-Wan drew his own weapon, and together they made a bizarre two-headed beast with dual lightsabers, slicing away droids from two directions as flawlessly as they did when standing back to back. The display would give General Grievous a run for his money.

Padme might have laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious.

The next thing they knew, the sky was lighting up with arriving LAATs. Clone troopers came dropping in, the droids getting wiped out left and right.

It would come to light later on that it was a lower general in the Separatist Army who had given the order to invade and was not authorized by Count Dooku. That explained how poorly executed the attack was.

But, it did solidify the Tengodians in their decision to side with the Republic, and they were indebted to the Jedi for fighting with them.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t know how to end this. Or should I continue it? Let me know what you guys think!


End file.
